


Masterpiece

by Ursula



Series: Crossing Paths [4]
Category: The X-Files, White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four FBI agents go undercover and undercovers. Ps, I have never seen or read DaVinci Code. My interest in DaVinci is life long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masterpiece

Title: Masterpiecc   
Author/pseudonym: Ursula   
Fandom: White Collar and X-Files   
Pairing: Peter Burke and Neal Caffrey and Mulder/Krycek as separate pairs   
Rating: NC-17 or Adult Slash or FRAO  
Status: Complete   
Archive: Anywhere, as a complete story. If you have a constructive critique and wish to use a portion, contact me directly.

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie@aol.com or Ursula4X@aol.com   
Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: Follow Dark Alley, Bright Smile series   
Disclaimers: Not our characters. No money made.   
Warnings: Slash with graphic sex   
1\. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Time Frame: Later in the first season for White Collar and AU for X Files

Notes: Four way stud. Four men, two partnerships. Enough matter and antimatter to implode the universe.

Masterpiece

By Ursula  
Series: Follows Bright Smile, Dark Alley, Misericordium, Honey Trap

It so happened that Neal was playing solitaire when Alex called. He had just drawn the one eyed jack and had no place to play it.

The cards were forgotten when he heard Alex's voice.

It had been a particularly frustrating week with Peter, leaving Neal wishing he could just thump Mr. Cock Tease on the head and drag him off to a cave to ravish. Neal could still feel the warmth of Peter's body against his back from earlier today. He didn't think it was an illusion that when Peter pressed in closely that he felt something hard and hot right at the center of his back. If only it had been a bit lower…

"How you doing, hot stuff?" Alex asked.

"Still haven't got past first base," Neal admitted.

"The man is either irredeemably straight or he has to be blind," Alex judged.

Even over the phone, there was something different. Neal realized to his shock that Alex sounded happy. Alex never sounded happy. The closest he came to it was when he had just been fucked by Mulder, but it never lasted long because, like Neal, Alex always wanted the whole enchilada. He wanted to be loved. Specifically by his Agent Mulder who couldn't keep his hands off Alex, but had his reasons for refusing to call what they had 'love'. He usually ended a tryst by beating Alex up.

Alex insisted that Mulder was justified.

Neal periodically sent him gay domestic violence flyers.

OooOooO

"What's up? You going to be in town?" Neal asked.

"You're going to love this," Alex said. "Mulder's been reinstated. He's got a case in New York and guess who he bringing with him?"

"You're joking!" Neal exclaimed. "How the hell did you pull that one off? I thought Mulder was a wanted man."

Neal had discovered early in his friendship with Alex not to ask too many questions. Not only was it unwise, but Alex's answers freaked the living hell out of him. Neal couldn't figure out if Alex was psycho or just trying to tease him. All that crap about aliens and living oil and conspiracies. Absolutely frigging nuts and Mulder must have that folie a deux thing going with Alex.

"I think you really don't want to know," Alex said. "Just accept that things are better. Safer."

"They went back home?" Neal asked, humoring Alex.

"Something like that so I fixed things for Mulder. Got him his job back, nice office, good budget. He let me too."

"You go back?"

Neal knew that Alex started out as an FBI agent, got to be Mulder's partner even. Envy here.

"Not yet," Alex told Neal. "Mulder's not ready to wrap his mind around that yet. I took a page from your book."

"You got yourself paroled to him?" Neal asked.

"I would have had to have let him catch me and keep me for that to happen," Alex said. He didn't quite ask Neal if he let himself be caught by Peter. Neal hoped that Alex continued to show restraint because Neal wasn't sure of the answer.

"I'm his informant," Alex said proudly. "Although I don't know how he justifies taking his informant with him on all of his cases. I don't care. I get to go."

"Well, I do too," Neal said. Not to mention that Peter actually acted like he cared about Neal. Most of the time, anyway.

"I know, kid," Alex replied.

But there were that tone of smugness that told Neal that Mulder couldn't go two days without what Alex gave him.

Neal wondered if you could die of horny.

OooOooO

It took Neal all of the next day after Alex called to worry. What if Mulder sensed something? The way Alex talked about it, Mulder had supernatural talents. It was not only that Mulder scared Neal. Neal was also scared that Peter might back away if he knew about Alex and him.

Then there was that little trick Neal had played to hook Peter's interest. He was going to have to explain that. Or Alex was going to be wearing some bruises that Mulder didn't inflict.

OooOooO

"Will you get a load of this crap?" Peter remarked.

Neal looked up just as Peter leaned down over him. They were so near that Neal wouldn't even have to stretch to steal a kiss. Peter didn't pull back immediately. He swallowed hard as Neal reacted to him, eye lashes fluttering, lips parting, so damn ready for him.

That nervous smile as Peter stepped back just a little was so not like the man. Neal regretfully decided it was still not the moment to push. He opened the file, feeling a rush almost like the way he felt about Peter.

"daVinci," Neal sighed. He reached for a magnifier. "But not daVinci, at least not one of the fifteen surviving paintings." From the prints that Peter had brought him, they were beautiful forgeries. For the moment, Neal wanted and needed those paintings almost as much as he craved Peter. "They are beautiful. Where are they, Peter? Can I see them?"

Bouncing up, prints in his hand, Neal's words rushed out. "Come on, Peter! I have to examine them. Do you know who created them?"

Peter's smile was so full of honest affection that Neal could have wrapped it around himself twice and snuggled in it. "Slow down, sure shot," Peter said, a hand splaying against Neal's chest, pushing him down back into the chair.

"We don't have the paintings or the artist yet," Peter said. "What we have is a nutcase formerly rogue FBI agent and his leather clad so called informant. And by the way, Neal, your ass is mine because I am not dumb enough not to connect the dots now that I know who Alex Krycek is."

Neal was so busted.

"I ought to put you cross my knee," Peter chided.

"Please," Neal said, honest for once.

That blush would have almost been worth another four years. Neal did say, almost.

"So how long have you known Alex Krycek?"

Peter was jealous. Neal could have danced if Peter would let him get up from the chair.

Turning back to the file, Neal studiously read all the notes with Peter's breath puffing down his neck, Peter's warmth searing through him, and a painful hard on throbbing between his legs from all that contact.

"So this Mulder thinks that these paintings were done by the actual real daVinci, who is actually a time warping alien shape changer?"

Peter looked around to make sure that no one was listening. Abruptly, he pulled Neal to his feet and said, "I don't want to talk about this here."

Thrusting Neal's jacket into his hands, Peter grabbed the file and said, "Let's go."

All that rush and the conflicting emotions, Neal either suffered a sudden lack of coordination or just wanted to see what Peter would do when he fumbled with his jacket.

Ah, yes, put it on him. Even tugged it right across his shoulders and even better Agent Cruz came into the room and her carefully plucked eyebrow lifted as if she was part Vulcan.

Peter didn't even notice Cruz's expression. "We have some field work. We'll be back in time to meet with Agent Mulder."

"Yes, sir," Cruz replied. She winked at Neal when Peter was safely past her.

OooOooO

"daVinci," Neal breathed. "Leonard di ser Piero da Vinci. Of all the people in all of time, the man I would most like to meet."

They had hopped a cab and Peter had given the cabbie the address of the metropolitan museum. It was a present, one of Neal's favorite places.

"The man I would have opened my legs to on a first date," Neal remarked.

"Like that's something unusual?"

"I'm picky," Neal said.

"Sure you are. Black leather clad swooshes with poor acting skills. Like I really believed his cheap Dr. Evil imitation."

And Peter was very jealous. Neal smiled.

"Alex Krycek is a dangerous, intelligent man," Neal said. "He also has access to a great deal of money. He could have got me out of prison. I could have walked out the door and no one would have ever found me."

Big whoops. More than he should have said. Peter's beautiful brain whirring behind his clever blue eyes. Peter smiled, all of the control back on his side. "You stayed for me, didn't you?"

"Don't be crazy," Neal tried. "Hey, I had to earn my internet privileges first of all."

"Or just walked out the door with your boyfriend."

Crap. Double stinking crap. Hung by his own words. Peter could always catch him. (Would catch him if he fell)

For once words failed. Deer in the head lights. Not that he really knew what that meant. He was an urban rose; the countryside terrified him. Neal stood there while Peter stared past his guard, shattered all the walls Neal needed to survive and keep himself from being eaten by that dangerous, exhilarating world out there.

Peter's hand cupped Neal's cheek. "You would have gotten farther if you told me that instead of scaring the hell out of me by faking your kidnapping."

They turned a corner, coming closer to the da Vinci exhibit that was temporarily housed here. Neal spotted a painting that didn't quite look right and tugged Peter after him so he could look at it. As Neal studied it, he was aware of Peter's hand casually resting on his ass. His legs went wobbly.

"This better not be a forgery," Peter said, leaning ever so much closer to Neal to take a look. Or so he must have wanted it to seem. "Museum paid a fortune for it."

"Arrange for me to examine it and buy me dinner at Maison's. I'll tell you."

"Not a cheap date, after all."

Neal loved Peter when he was like this. Flirting right back. Playing Neal like Neal played the world (World 4, Neal 106)

"Elizabeth knows," Peter whispered. "She knows about you."

Neal held back a girly scream. Elizabeth was sweet, short, sharp steel in a shapely package.

Sexy, bad ass grin, Peter added, "And she doesn't mind."

Do people really swoon?

Neal was pretty sure they did because his head was spinning like a top.

Peter had mercy and tugged Neal out of there, toward the da Vinci exhibit.

OooOooO

Honestly, Neal could have stayed at the exhibit all day. Even in the middle of the day, the place was crowded. He wondered if Peter could somehow arrange for a private viewing. When Neal turned to ask him, Peter was looking at him instead of the sketch they stood in front of. The funny thing was Peter was looking at him like Neal was sure that he had been gazing at the sketch.

"You would have to earn some major points for me to do that for you," Peter said.

Eyes turned down, head turned slightly to the side, little glance upward. Neal had learned that from Alex. If it worked on Mulder, it sure and hell would work on Peter, even if Peter had just proved that he could read Neal's mind even when it wasn't living mostly in his cock.

"You know I would do anything for you," Neal said, his tone promising the world in a silk wrapper.

Funny thing was that Neal meant it.

OooOooO

Alex looks fucking fantastic. That suit he was wearing could have been the down payment on Peter's house. Neal had hoped that Alex might be wearing the black leather Peter had mentioned, because he might be in love, but he wasn't dead. Alex in black leather was something he could have eaten like chocolate.

Mulder was…

Mulder was tall, not conventionally handsome. Big nose. Hazel eyes that gazed through you like some kind of x-ray vision. Little chin. Lip that drooped just like Alex said. Sensuous mouth like a ripe peach, begging to be tasted. He was lean although he had a bit of flesh around his middle. Nice ass. Broad shoulders. When he smiled, the world disarmed.

Neal hated him.

Because Peter loved smart and Agent Mulder might be bull goose loony but he was smart. As he moved around the room, laying out his evidence, Neal saw Peter go from skeptical to interested.

"This one was sold to a private collector," Mulder said, producing a yellowed sketch, carefully ensconced in a glass box.

"May I see it?" Neal asked, because he really wanted to and besides now Peter was looking at him instead of at Mulder.

"You're looking at it," Mulder said.

"He can handle artifacts appropriately," Peter said. "This is Neal Caffrey. If he had an honest bone in his body, he could be a curator or writing world shaking art history."

Wry look. Mulder unlocked the case and stood back. "Help yourself."

Donning his white cotton gloves and a mask, Neal leaned over the sketch reverently.

"Material matches da Vinci notebooks. Note the mirror writing. Typical erase over and redraw." Neal was speaking to Peter and himself.

"Looks as if it might be a missing page from Codicil 21." That was Peter.

"Testing shows that material used are from da Vinci's time." Mulder.

"People would kill for this," Neal said.

"Turn it over," Mulder said, a grin shining big enough to light up the room.

Sketch of a Nazi soldier on a tank. Mirror writing on that one too. Strokes, feathering, rapid technique unmistakably da Vinci.

"I could sketch something that looked like da Vinci did it yesterday too," Neal said.

"But would you do it on the back of an authentic da Vinci sketch?"

"Who would be that insane? Even if you lacked the soul to appreciate what you had, the financial loss would stop you."

"Exactly," Mulder said. "Exactly."

He was looking at Neal the way that Peter looked at him and Neal saw what Alex loved.

Four way stud. Four men, two partnerships. Enough matter and antimatter to implode the universe.

OooOooO

The two FBI agents were ordered off to a meeting. One of those meetings with Mr. Grouchy Pants Section Chief so Neal would have been glad enough to miss it if it weren't for the disrespect to him. It wasn't very nice to Peter either, leaving his consultant out cold. Neal knew that they were riding Peter about him. He thought they were just jealous.

Peter said, "You have two miles from my location."

A few steps away and Peter added, "I'm going to text you every fifteen minutes. You can't do much in fifteen minutes."

Mulder's gaze went from Alex to Neal and grew dark.

Neal waved nervously to both FBI agents.

"Just lunch. We're hungry. You want we should bring something back"

Mulder looked past Neal to Alex and mouthed, "You belong to me."

Which made Alex smile hugely.

OooOooO

In the elevator, Neal fingered Alex's suit. Very nice. It was merino wool, a charcoal gray that somehow flattered Alex's lovely green eyes. "I like this."

"I'll have you fitted for one," Alex said. He reached out to put his arm around Neal. "He treating you okay?"

"Peter is a gentleman," Neal said. Yeah, too   
much of one. "How about you? He learn to hit you where it doesn't show?"

"The only bruises I have are Mulder's fingerprints on my ass."

"I am happy for you," Neal said.

"I wish I could be happy for you," Alex said. "Some guys are that rare one hundred percent straight. He's married, isn't he? I don't know about married men."

"Wasn't your Mr. Mannerly married?"

"Oh, but that was business. I am so much more picky about pleasure. I picked you, didn't I?"

"You did," Neal agreed. Even after Kate, there were times when he couldn't resist a taste of Alex. Besides Kate liked to watch.

"His wife, Elizabeth, is okay with it."

Which was not exactly what Peter said, but Neal was pretty sure that's what Peter meant.

The nearest decent restaurant served Thai food. Alex ate Asian. Food too.

Unlike Peter, Alex didn't peruse the menu for the cheapest items. He ordered rapid fire, enough food for a small army, but Alex had a big appetite. "I'm getting some for our guys too. My Mulder does not eat enough vegetables. What does your Agent Burke like?"

"He really likes free food so whatever you ordered."

Alex laughed and asked, "Is he related to Mulder's AD? Skinner is a cheap son of a bitch."

Defensively, Neal said, "Peter grew up poor. He's careful not cheap."

"Oh, you have it so bad," Alex teased.

"I used to laugh at you and your Mulder," Neal replied. "Payback sucks."

"Seriously, I know he will love you. If it wasn't for Mulder, I would have fought harder to keep you."

"You know where Kate is?" Neal asked. "Could you find her for me?"

"Angel, she doesn't want to be found," Alex said.

"How can you know that?' Neal exploded. "You don't know everything!"

"I know when someone does not want to be found. If it was you, would you want me to chase you down? Expose you?"

Neal had a difficult time wrapping his head around ethical Alex, but he knew that he could not make Alex do what he did not want to do.

So they had a good, long lunch, flirted mildly and, without real intent, and talked about their FBI agents all too much.

OooOooO

Peter and Mulder seemed to be getting along just fine. Neal wasn't sure if he approved of that.

Right in front of Mulder although out of sight of any other FBI agents, Peter grabbed Neal by his tie and said, "We're going out of town. Road trip"

Just getting out of town was good enough. Neal couldn't help it. He danced. Mulder smirked at him. Mulder looked at his cute ass. Okay, maybe Mulder was not all that bad.

Slap.

Peter liked to play spanky? Who was to know?

Well, maybe Elizabeth. Neal wondered if she would tell him about it.

"I keep saying, don't dance in the office." Peter said. "Come on."

Peter took his share of the Thai takeout with him.

OooOooO

"Elizabeth, we're home. I have to book a flight for us."

Neal smiled quietly. Peter probably had no idea he was including Neal in what should have been Elizabeth and Peter dialog.

Elizabeth came out with a stack of invitations and said, "Hi, Neal, cute suit. New?"

"Yeah, June found it hidden in her closet and had it cleaned for me."

Neal twirled, showing off his suit and other attributes in case Elizabeth was interested.

"Oh, stop that," Peter said weakly.

"It's not the office," Neal complained.

"He doesn't like it when I dance in the office. I just get excited."

"You can dance here anytime you want, Neal," Elizabeth said firmly.

"And where are we going?" Elizabeth asked the disappearing back of her husband.

"Byrdcliffe Art Colony," Peter threw back. "Neal's just got a scholarship."

"How nice," Elizabeth said. "And who are you? His boyfriend?"

Peter turned back and smiled a smile as wicked as Neal or Elizabeth could produce. "And that is a very good idea. Thank you, dear."

"Oh my fucking god," Neal breathed.

Elizabeth walked closer, drew a stunned Neal closer with her fingers curled in his lapel and smiled up at him. "You have my permission to do some method acting. I just get him back intact. Nothing broken. Not even his heart. Especially not his heart."

Neal was pretty sure he loved Elizabeth. All he could do was look into her eyes and nod.

OooOooO

It only took two days to set up the cover identity with Alex making the arrangements.

"Elizabeth said," Neal started when Peter and he waited for Elizabeth to drive them to the airport.

"I know what she said," Peter replied. "We are not going to talk about it here."

"But you're going to be my boyfriend?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. "A very jealous boyfriend who never lets you out of his sight. Best way to keep you safe."

Which was one of the nicest things that Peter could have said.

OooOooO

It was Neal's second visit to Byrdcliffe. The first one he really won and was in his own name. He had been very young so hopefully no one would remember the gawky kid with the big smile.

"And who are Mulder and Alex?"

"Themselves," Peter said. "Mulder is a writer, as it turns out. Writes so called non fiction about alien abductions and also writes murder mysteries. Byrdcliffe accepts a few paid artists who want to breathe the creative juices. Alex is attending as Mulder's paid companion."

"I'd pay for some of that," Neal said.

Got another ass slap. What he wanted if he couldn't get something better.

"We're sharing a two bedroom cabin," Peter said. "Easier to talk about the case that way."

"Well, this is like a dream come true, but why are we here?"

Peter blushed. "Mulder thinks da Vinci is one of the artists here. There were several of the fake da Vinci peddled locally. Not that I believe it's really da Vinci, but Mulder is very smart if you ignore the crackpot theories."

"And I know you like smart," Neal remarked.

Peter just smiled.

OooOooO

"daVinci and three other art students were arrested for sodomy," Alex remarked. "Neal is bait."

"Why aren't you the bait?" Neal asked indigently.

"Because Mulder would kill him," Alex said.

Mulder nodded.

"If he can die, that is," Mulder added.

Peter and Neal exchanged glances. Loony.

"So if one of the artists hits on Neal, it's da Vinci?" Peter tried.

Alex, Mulder, and Neal all suffered from fits of smothered laughter.

"If one of the artists paints like da Vinci and hits on Neal, we'll question him," Mulder said.

Peter nodded, but did not look happy.

OooOooO

Neal spent the next two days happily. Painting. Walking around looking gorgeous with Peter hanging on him. Cruising the other artists, writers, and assorted odd balls.

The only draw back was listening to the sounds coming from next door. Alex's moans and sighs. Mulder's cries of ecstasy. Going on and on and on.

The thing was that Neal was in bed with Peter, listening to an endless porn track, and he still wasn't getting any.

Getting up, Neal had to crawl over Peter who was staring at his watch; apparently timing the latest episode of Mulder does Krycek.

"Where are you going?"

"To jerk off," Neal snarled.

Without a word, Peter pulled him back down on the bed, covered his mouth with a passionate kiss, and reached down, pulling off the black silk undies that Neal found in his suitcase with a kiss note from Elizabeth pinned to them. With an incredible take charge attitude, Peter grabbed Neal's cock, moved his hand up and down on it, swirled precum over the thick head, and to make things, more interesting somehow slipped a finger in Neal's ass at just the right angle to make it good.

Neal wanted to say, "Who are you and what have you done with Peter?' but Peter's tongue got in the way.

It wasn't what Neal expected at all. He expected the first time to be slow, romantic, and hesitant with himself taking the lead role.

No bloody way.

This was what Neal had suspected was under Peter's calm surface. This was being devoured. It was just a hand, but it was Peter's hand. All Neal could do was wrap himself around Peter and go along for the ride. He found Peter's cock, glad it was hard, and that Peter moaned into his mouth the moment he touched it.

Neal wanted it all, Peter's cock in his mouth. His in Peter's. The feel of that cock in his ass. Anything Peter was willing to give him. And more.

Peter's hand covering his mouth, smothering the sounds. Keeping his own sounds back and it was as hot in its way as the cries from the next room.

When Neal could breathe again, Peter had his mouth close to Neal's ear and he said, "Because you are mine. Because this was for us. Because, here, tonight, there is no one else but you and I. My Neal, your Peter. Just us."

"I'm never going to let you go," Peter said. "Not in four years. Not in eight. That's what should have scared you. I don't ever let go."

"Okay," Neal whispered. "Okay."

He could feel Kate slipping away. His hand opened. She was free. He would always love her. He never stopped loving once he started, but now, now, he had someone who would stay.

OooOooO

The next day Neal floated through the day. He painted in a fog, but it came out so beautifully that he wished it was all real. He would love to have painted masterpieces to offer to Peter. He would have signed them with love notes to him.

Which made it all crash.

It was one of the few times that all the cons, all the people he played, the art so technically perfect, but always empty of himself except for perhaps the hidden signature on work that copied another artists, dismayed him.

His brush in hands, Neal stared into the room. Peter was over watching someone splash huge fields of color on a canvas, far away from him.

Peter was right. Neal could have had it all. He had talent. He was given opportunities. He just didn't have the confidence to put himself out there to be judged.

What if he peeled away his layers… stripped it all away, and what if there was nothing underneath?

Neal had played so many roles from childhood. Foster kid. You either charmed them, the foster parents, or you ended up in some counselor's office, having your soul poked and prodded. Call them Mom and Dad. Cry on command, but not too long. Say you understand when, for unknown reasons, they pack you up and you climb in an anonymous car to find the next stage for the next you.

You get better and better at it. Until you almost believe it yourself.

Which was why Kate.

Kate understood. Kate grew up in foster care too.

OooOooO

Someone rescued Neal from his dark thoughts. A hand guided his to canvas. "The paint so much better here."

The man guided Neal's hand upward because the paint was dripping on his battered jeans. Even Neal wouldn't wear a designer suit to paint.

Purring voice. "So much potential, so much beauty."

Not the canvas, Neal was sure. He wasn't talking about Neal's art.

Neal evaluated the man who accosted him. Bulging, high forehead. Long straight, well formed but prominent nose. Eyes like….eyes you could fall into.

Peter, don't let me fall, Neal thought.

But Neal smiled into those compelling eyes. He let the man stared directly into his face. Neal's guileless, pretty face that showed nothing but the artist, the pretty boy, the dilettante.

"You will model for me, yes?"

There was a time when the yes that Neal uttered would have been as delighted as it sounded, but not after the night before. He was however a professional so none of it showed.

Peter's look across the room was classic. He looked as if something was not only sour but rancid.

Neal felt a glow start from his toes up. He was the center of attention. He loved it.

OooOooO

"I suppose he wants your clothes off?" Peter asked.

A muffled snort came from Alex. Mulder glared at his lover and jabbed him with a finger. "It's not funny."

"Yeah," Neal said. "It's kinda traditional."

"That's as far as it goes."

Dear Peter. Jealous Peter. It was wonderful.

"So if this guy is really da Vinci and he sells his painting as a da Vinci, what would we charge him with?" Neal asked.

"He's not da Vinci!" Peter said, exasperated. Turning on his heel, Peter paced the room before coming back to Neal. "He's a con man. We catch con man."

"You catch them, I'm bait."

"Delicious, yummy, delectable bait," Alex remarked.

"Alex…." Mulder said through gritted teeth.

"The truth, Mulder."

"Yeah, I know, you can get it for me."

It must have been an old joke between them because both of them stopped, looked at each other, and smiled with honest affection.

"I just want you to be careful," Peter interjected. "It's not a game, Neal."

"It's all a game, Peter," Neal said. A sudden wash of feeling. But Peter and him…he didn't want that to be just another gambit.

Peter's nod told Neal that Peter heard that in that magical mind reading way. Maybe Mulder should investigate Peter.

"I have to get ready," Neal said.

There was a spa in town.

He'd let himself go since prison. Even at June's, he didn't have the resources to really take care of himself as the finely tuned and polished mechanism of his body demanded.

"Alex, you want to go to the spa in town with me? Got to get pretty."

"You're pretty enough."

Mulder and Peter together, ending with beguiled and bewildered smiles..

OooOooO

Each soaking in a tub, Neal and Alex luxuriated in oils and scents and each other. Both of their FBI agents refused to join them. Both agents sent them off with warning looks.

You're mine.

"You ever wonder why it isn't still us." Alex speculated.

"You told me why the first time around," Neal said. "And I do appreciate it. I don't like violence."

"I know. My pretty sweet Neal, all innocence and sex."

"But we had other chances. After I cut them loose. Kate was into us," Alex said.

"There was always Mulder. He never really left you."

Alex rubbed his left arm just below the shoulder. The biggest scar on his body was there, but there were plenty more.

Neal had not minded. It was like the masterpieces he lusted after. Grown beyond mere prettiness in time, patina of history giving them compelling power. That was Alex.

"Does it ache?"

"Not as much as it did when it wasn't there," Alex said.

He said things like that. Weird ass, scary things.

"So Peter finally came to his senses."

"It's that obvious?"

"Nuclear glow obvious."

"Surprised me," Neal admitted. "I think you and Mulder helped. You were uh loud."

"Yeah, I thought we were going to break something, trying to inspire you two."

Alex was serious. Oh, Alex.

Bless you, Alex.

OooOooO

The funny thing was that Neal was never totally comfortable nude. He knew he had a great body, but it felt better to be dressed up. Nude, you were you and who knew what that would lead to. If everyone could see you…

They might see right through you.

Dan Vincent was what the da Vinci forger went by. He arranged Neal's leg slightly differently and then stopped. He examined Neal's ankle. "What was here? You are marked."

"Some guys like collars," Neal explained. "Mine liked a clunky ankle bracelet."

"You took it off? Does that mean?"

"You get tired of being owned."

An utter lie. Peter could lay claim to all of him. Even the hidden parts that didn't stand up to the light of day.

Hands stroking his leg. Stroking the faint line where the tracer usually chafed just enough to annoy. Neal fought the urge to jerk away. That was Peter's. His mark on Neal. Much as Neal loathed it at first, now he thought of Peter putting the band on him and it was not so bad. He must have not entirely concealed his reluctance.

"Sorry, beautiful," Dan said. "You don't like me?"

Play the game. Neal tilted his head and said, "I just was hoping you would paint today. I want to see your art."

"You will like it,"

Neal did. Sfumtao technique. Light brush strokes, layer upon layer. Neal forgot he was naked. Forgot it was con job or a sting or whatever. Honestly, forgot about Peter because this was his soul. Because this was something he could never have dreamed about seeing, the master at work.

Mulder might be crazy. Alex might be willing to believe six impossible things before breakfast to support the center of his life.

But that didn't stop them from being right. This was da Vinci. Not a forger like Neal. Not someone who could copy da Vinci. This was the genius. This was the most brilliant man that the world had ever known.

"The light…"

da Vinci mourned the loss of the particular glow and pattern of sunlight that even the finest studio lighting could hardly duplicate. He put down his brush and stood looking at what he had done. "It's going well."

"So beautiful," da Vinci said. Dan Vincent said, but now he was looking at Neal.

Now Dan stepped over and offered a hand to Neal.

It was needed. He had grown stiff. He had not moved. He would nearly have died in that position rather than disappoint da Vinci.

"You will see later." Dan said.

His speech was layered. Accents over accents. Neal could still hear the faint trace of Florence still after nearly five hundred years.

"Oh, my poor Rafe," Dan said, rubbing the ache from Neal's shoulders and legs. His hands soothing and enflaming.

"What?" Neal nearly forgot he was here under the name of Rafe Saunders.

"Can I come to you tonight? da Vinci whispered. "I know more of art than a few brush strokes."

"I might not be able to get away," Neal said. "My patron is very jealous."

"Patrons can be that way," Dan agreed. "But try."

The kiss of genius burning on his lips. What would any artist say to know that he or she could have been loved by the master? Neal was shaking from head to toe with energy. He loved Peter. He wanted Peter, but da Vinci. That incredible brilliant scientist, artist, inventor and lover of men desired him.

"Tomorrow, I will paint." da Vinci said. "In the afternoon when the light is right. I must sell a painting in the morning. A man had his needs, yes?"

"Oh, absolutely, he has his needs."

Neal reluctantly stood up, his cock getting in the way, and tried not to act like his legs were wobbling. As he passed by, he had to look. He saw. He was sure.

Neal knew how to fake every technique. He knew enough to fool the most discerning eye, even Peter's.

But he had no doubt. This was no fraud. The painting coming to life on the campus was da Vinci. Not a copy. Not a simulation of use of color, light, strokes and technique that were an equation to manufacture genius. What Neal saw took his breath away. He saw not only da Vinci but a da Vinci armed with modern materials that would not erode his genius. A da Vinci who had almost five hundred years to become even more than he had been.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only look and look.

"You will pose for me tomorrow?"

Damn right.

OooOooO

Going over it at the cabin, Neal felt a sting of disappointment at Peter. Not his usual feelings toward the chess master that played him like a pawn.

Neal was telling Peter about brilliance. Peter heard that da Vinci was making a play in the morning. Suckering someone with another fake da Vinci.

"Come on, now," Peter scoffed. "Dan Vincent? You think that a genius couldn't come up with a better alias?"

"Sometimes, when everything changes and you lose a bit of yourself with every move, your name is all you have," Neal said softly.

Peter's eyes took him in. Peter's arms pulled him softly into a warm embrace.

"It's certainly not all that you have," Peter chided.

But Peter didn't quite understand. Even Neal was not sure. He loved Peter so much, but did he want to be Peter? If he loved Peter too much, what would become of Neal?

 

OooOooO

"You can get close enough to get a tracer on him?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," Neal said.

"And get away without…you know."

"Um."

"Neal."

"I can. I will."

He could do anything for Peter.

OooOooO

Pressed back against the wall, Dan Vincent's mouth feasting on his neck. Neal moaned, exposed his throat to the tongue and the teeth, his hands fumbling at Vincent's clothing, The wallet in his clothing out without a slip.

"Just a minute," Neal gasped. "Can I have some wine?"

"Not drunk enough on my kisses?"

"Nervous, " Neal said, sometimes the truth is the best lie.

Vincent smiled, turned.

The bug was in the wallet.

A deep drink of rich red wine. Vincent put down the glass, reached for Neal, a question in his eyes.

Neal let his eyes say yes and he was back in Vincent's arms, moaning slightly as he caressed. Sliding the wallet back plus the bug.

"We should," Vincent started, stopping for another kiss. "My bed's in there."

Neal let himself be drawn to his feet. Paused at the doorway to allow Vincent to kiss him again. Let his shirt be unbuttoned.

Just as they entered the bedroom, there was a burst of sound and Peter burst into the cabin.

"Where is he? Rafe? Rafe? What the hell are you doing?

Oh, man, something going like molten iron in his middle as Peter grabbed him away from Vincent.

"He's mine," Peter roared. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Peter grabbed a handful of Vincent and shook him.

Wow!

Neal knew it was an act. At least, most of it was. Because unless Peter was the greatest thespian who never walked the stage, there was a core of genuine rage beneath the bluster.

"I'm going to kill you," Peter threatened, persuasively.

Peter threw Vincent across the room to hit the wall, hard enough to knock a vase off the mantel.

As Peter lunged, in came Mulder and Krycek to grab him and drag him out, apologizing to Vincent the entire way.

"You stay away from him, " Peter said. "You keep your hands off him."

Peter kept shouting until they were out of hearing range.

High on the action, Neal said, "Damn, Peter, I never knew you had it in you. You could have played any con with me. Great acting."

"Who was acting?" Peter answered.

Neal couldn't tell if he was joking.

A slap on his ass and Peter added, "This is mine."

Well, not yet, but Neal knew he could look forward to that becoming true.

OooOooO

"DNA," Mulder said. "We have to get Neal back in there to get Vincent's DNA. If he has any, that is."

"He's not getting Vincent's DNA," Peter rasped. "I'll punch the guy in the nose if you want some."

Alex's eyes met Neal's. "Good thing we picked the guy without a jealous boyfriend to play bait."

"Did he say anything that sounded odd?" Mulder asked. "Anything that made him sound as if he wasn't from here? From earth?"

"You know, Mulder," Alex said, reaching around his lover to gaze at the pictures in the file again. "Even an idiot could master faking humanity in just under five hundred years."

Eyes narrowing and then giving in. "Yeah, that's a point."

"Besides, he wasn't doing much talking," Neal added.

Peter scowled.

"He was painting," Neal pointed out.

"Oh, oh, yes," Peter said. He smiled.

Krycek tugged at Mulder and said, "Come on. You said we could go into town for a while. Let's go."

"We'll be gone at least three hours. Dinner. Movie maybe. Informants need to be paid."

"Three hours?" Peter repeated. "I guess we can find something to do while you're gone."

Neal could have died on the spot when Peter pulled out the file again after Mulder and Krycek departed.

Smirking, Peter said, "Just kidding."

Jacket hit the floor. Artistic hand woven sweater thrown across the room. Ouch to that. His snug fitting jeans peeled away like Peter peeled away the guards on his heart.

Naked before Peter, Neal knelt to worship him. Undid his belt. Unzipped his pants. Drew out the hard heat he wanted inside him. He barely started before Peter was pulling him up. "Not like this. I have to have all of you."

Shaking like the virgin he could hardly remember being, Neal watched Peter finish undressing. The bad suits hid a great body. Smooth, well muscled, and built like a fighter. Peter was no desk jockey.

"You bring anything?" Peter asked, his voice sounding strained.

"Yeah, drawer," Neal said, pointed.

"Always be prepared?" Peter asked. He laughed, his cock bobbing to the sound. "Don't answer that. Boy Butter? You got to be kidding me!"

"You will like," Neal promised with a grin.

Peter kissed the smile away from Neal's lips and pulled him to their bed.

Turning away was difficult. He wanted to watch those fingers enter him. Next time, there would be a mirror.

"This good?" Peter said, his fingers exploring.

"Good," Neal said. "Really good."

"And you want this? You're not just…."

What? Tricking him?

"Trying to please me," Peter said. "Because I love you already."

Peter's fingers hit the sweet spot and Neal had to think about prison to keep from coming.

"You'll understand," Neal said. "Someday, you will understand."

"I'm ready."

"Can I see you?"

Peter's voice sounded begging.

Neal didn't trust himself to speak. He turned, watched Peter gingerly put the condom on, pushing away Neal's abortive attempt to help him. Peter knelt between his legs, looking at him, his expression so serious.

Speechless, Neal lifted, his legs opening, as graceful as he hoped he would be. Peter's hands on his legs. A moment. Peter kissed the ankle where the tracer normally rested. Neal understood and he loved what it meant. Captured, a willing captive.

Peter pushed inside Neal so very carefully, which was hardly necessary even after a lot of years of no one. They fit together. Peter's eyes never left him. His eyes saw Neal and all of him. No regrets. No doubts. Just that love and need.

Now they danced. Bodies moving. Finding each other. Apart not quite and swift rush of feeling, back. Sweat lubricating even more than the boy butter. Neal wanted to take every moment of it and store it away in his personal vault. Afraid to lose it even as he had it.

"Hey, stay with me," Peter said, calling Neal back to him. "You good still? I don't want to hurt you."

For answer, Neal did the hip rock thing that Alex had taught him. Peter looked startled but followed him.

Neal wanted to watch Peter come, but he was flying, so full of sensation that he was blind with it. It didn't matter. He could feel it inside him. His mind, his racing, never stopping mind, stopped thinking. The world was fire. The world was a great looping sensation all over his body, inside of him, was Peter's cock powerfully connected to him, final thrusts sending him all the way out of himself.

It took a while to come down. They lay together, Peter's hand claiming him, blunt nails on elegant fingers, Peter's hand splayed across Neal's belly.

Peter turning to cup Neal's body with his own, spooning. A sigh of contentment.

"Thank you."

Heartfelt, old fashioned, adorable.

"I was right there with you."

Smug look. "I know that. Really made you, didn't I?"

"Shhh," Neal said. He closed his eyes, so tired that he almost didn't feel Peter pull the covers around them and kiss him good night.

Almost.

OooOooO

The next day, Neal really didn't want to get out of bed. He would have been glad to stay especially if Peter would stay with him.

"Work calls," Peter said, in an awfully good mood.

"I'm not in," Neal tried.

"Come on, you know you love this," Peter teased. His eyes twinkled as he whispered, "Know you love me."

Which was the perfect thing to say to get Neal out of bed.

Last night's pleasure replaced with the joy of the hunt.

OooOooO

Alex was in charge of the lap top that tracked the tracer. His fingers moved over the keyboard as he stared into the monitor.

"Looks like Glenerie," Alex said. "I am guessing that it might be Mabel Hudson. She has money and a dearth of brains."

"She collects art," Neal agreed. "Some of it is even authentic."

"Is she going to remember you?" Peter asked.

"No, I was just a kid," Neal said. "Besides she liked me too much to turn me in."

Roll of Peter's eyes.

OooOooO

Peter explained to Mulder for the fifth time why they had to let Vincent go into the house, carrying a large art case and come out, wearing a smile.

"We have to authenticate the painting?" Mulder asked. "We know it's fake or at least, it's a newer da Vinci than she thinks it is."

"I think we want to be able to put Vincent on trial," Peter said gently.

"Maybe," Mulder said. "Probably won't get that far once someone figures it out. Area 56."

"Don't you mean Area 51?" Peter asked.

"They had to move it after that TV show," Alex and Mulder said together.

Peter took refuge from the madness by gazing in Neal's eyes.

"Coming, Burke?" Mulder called out.

"Yeah," Peter said.

Putting on their best FBI yes ma'm faces, Peter and Mulder marched up to the door, holding their IDs ready.

Alex sauntered behind the agents and let Neal duck behind him. Alex was wearing black leather today and was resplendent so there was hope that Ms. Hudson would not take a second look at Neal.

"Are you wearing mascara?" Neal asked, suddenly distracted when Alex turned back toward him.

If someone was coming to the door, they were coming slowly.

"No," Alex answered, looking irritated and offended.

"Come on, you can tell me. You are." Neal said.

"Feel," Alex said, leaning down.

Hot damn, they were real. He didn't remember Alex having lashes like that. His memory was going with age.

"Stop that. We're not here to play grab ass." Peter scolded.

The door opened and an ancient butler peered at them. His back was bent crooked by the weight of time. His pale blue eyes peered at the FBI agent's identification as the explanation was repeated loudly several times.

"Madame," the butler announced. "There are two FBI agents, one of those starving young artists you like, and a thug waiting to see you."

"I'm the thug," Alex said helpfully to Neal.

"I guessed that," Neal said.

They were allowed into the library. Neal smiled modestly at no one as he saw what appeared to be an unknown Thomas Cole hanging over the fire place.

"I'm quite proud of that," Ms. Hudson said. "So rare I really can't loan it to a museum or I would never hear the end of wanting it to display it. I so like being able to see it any time I please."

When you're good, you're excellent. Ms. Hudson seemed to have forgotten where she heard that first and only remembered that she said it frequently to visitors. Neal moved back into the shadows just in case.

"What is this about?"

"You just purchased a painting," Peter said, taking the lead. "The seller probably told you that it was part of the many looted and lost by Nazi war criminals."

"I would never," Ms. Hudson said disdainfully. "I know that it is illegal to buy such art."

"So you will be relieved to hear that you committed no crime because the painting is not authentic."

"But Mittan said it was a da Vinci. He was sure of it. He said the brush strokes are the finest Sfumtao technique known to man. The color, the scope of the design are unmistakable."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter said, "an excellent imitation, no doubt."

Ms. Hudson finally allowed them receipt of the painting. It would be rushed back for scientific testing.

Meanwhile, Vincent must be kept where he could be found.

Somehow, Neal would have to keep the master's mind on art and not on love making or on premonitions that the FBI was on his trail.

OooOooO

The light was wonderful the next day after the painting was obtained. Vincent might be interested in doing something else with Neal's naked body, but not until he finished the painting.

"Centuries of fleeting beauty," Vincent said, under his breath. "I can't catch it all. Can't keep more than a fraction. It fades. How it fades."

The grief in Vincent's eyes was ancient. "I talk too much."

Vincent said, "I can finish the rest without discomforting you. "

Neal stretched, the long hours of posing had exhausted him. He wanted to take a nap, hopefully in Peter's arms.

"Will you go back to him? Your patron?"

Vincent's expression was sad.

Neal said, "I don't know."

Vincent caught his hand, thumb stroking over the pulse until Neal was sure that the blood beneath was rushing rapid as a hummingbird's wings.

"You have so much promise and such should never, never be wasted."

"I have to talk to him," Neal said. "He deserves that much."

OooOooO

"Got him," Peter said when Neal entered. "Canvas was authentic. Medium was aged and typical of da Vinci's time. But there was a filament of a modern brush hair caught in the oil. Got him."

Usually, Neal would have been happy because it was a puzzle solved and because it made Peter happy to catch a crook, even harmless ones like Vincent and Neal.

This bust was not one that would make Neal happy. He almost wanted to tell Vincent. Warn him. Yet Peter. He had given his word and his heart to Peter.

Mulder entered the room and tossed a lab report down. Neal had obtained Mulder's sample when Vincent had cut his finger, trimming a brush. He said, "Blood was completely human. Nothing odd about it at all. Just an art forger."

Neal shook his head. Mulder may have been brilliant, but he was wrong. Neal knew. He had studied da Vinci even more so than any other artist. He had never faked him though. He had too much respect. He knew what he had seen. His own face executed in meticulous, layered, minute brush strokes, so dense that the painting seemed nearly dimensional. da Vinci.

"You think he's an alien," Mulder asked, catching Neal's expression.

"No, but I think he is who you thought he was," Neal said. "I can't explain how, but he is da Vinci. I know he is."

"Neal, have you been sniffing the paint thinner?" Peter tried.

It pissed him off. Neal walked out of the cabin and saw Vincent standing there, hand cupped to his ear. Vincent walked away rapidly when he noticed Neal watching him.

Neal went through his clothing.

It was in his coat lining. A minute bug. No commercial bug. This one was literally a cunningly designed bug, a scarab beetle, in fact.

Neal went for a long walk to collect his thoughts.

OooOooO

When Neal returned to the cabin, Vincent was there.

Neal said, "I found your bug. How did you know?"

"I saw the passion, Neal, and wondered how a love that deep could be so easily brushed aside," Vincent said.

"You didn't tell your lover about the bug," Vincent said. "Does that mean I have some of your heart?"

"I was going to tell him," Neal said. "I'm sorry, but I gave him a promise and I have to keep it."

"I expected you would."

"Where are they?"

"They enjoyed the wine you sent," Vincent said.

"I didn't send any." Neal said. Then he knew.

"What the hell did you do? What did you do?"

A murdering monster genius.

"They drank the wine in there," Vincent said, waving toward Mulder and Krycek's room.

OooOooO

Like sleeping puppies, Peter and Mulder were on the bed in a tangle of limbs. Alex, willful and strong, sprawled in the doorway. He must have realized what was happening and gone for revenge or help before even his strength failed.

Brief moment of horror as Neal stepped over Alex to check Peter's heart beat, finding it strong and steady.

"What did you do?"

"A simple potion of my own device," da Vinci said. "They will wake refreshed and hale."

Neal's hand trembled as he slowly aimed Peter's gun at da Vinci. He had taken it so smoothly from its holster that even he hardly knew he had it. Peter wanted to take da Vinci in. He had promised Peter to help. Peter trusted him.

"I can't let you go," Neal said. "I can't betray Peter."

da Vinci shook his head. "I can't stay. You understand that, Neal. You more than anyone."

"Don't make me shoot you," Neal said. As if he could, he knew that instinctively. If it was Peter's life, he could do it, but it would burn a black hole in his heart. He could not do it for Peter's job. Not even to keep his love. And Neal was shocked that he had the measure of his soul and that he did not find it wanting.

"I have never been shot, never been killed by violence all these long years," da Vinci said. He smiled, handsome man. The sum of all men.

"I wonder if the magic and the mystery would still work? Or if I would sleep at last, forever. I would not like it. There is so much in the world, Neal. Can you feel it? Can you dream of how it will change? Such marvels that I have seen. Such marvels yet to come."

Smiling tenderly at Peter, at Mulder and Krycek, da Vinci said, "and yet certain things remain the same. The pleasures of the flesh, never boring. Love. I have loved. I have known such beauty."

"You are Leonardo da Vinci." Neal said.

"Yes, I am da Vinci, born a simple bastard to a poor peasant woman, who slept with my father, Piero for a few coins. I lived. Not enough. Even dying and old, I thought, my fierce brain on fire, of things I had never experienced, loves I had not tasted, paintings that cried to be born. And I slept in the earth and I rose from the earth. I lived again. And again. Each time I grew weary of flesh, the earth grew a womb to birth me over and I was young again. Never a child again, mind you. A young stud like I am now, rampant and randy. Capable of painting and fucking all night and day. Is this not a wonder?"

"Yes," Neal said. "Yes, it is."

"Will you let your Peter arrest me? Lock me away? Let them cut me as I did in secret horror, my knife my brush to see what God's technique had been to make us? Will you let them try to find the science in who I am at the cost of the glory?"

Neal had been in prison and he had nearly died of it. Take someone who needed beauty and drank of it, breathed it, devoured it and lock them in misery and stink. They wither. They fade.

Peter will hate you if you let him go.

Neal's brain told him that. You'll lose him and you just now tasted him.

"Come with me," da Vinci invited. "I could teach you. I could bring from you such art. I can make each moment of the rest of your life so full of meaning that you will hardly notice the pages of time turn. Perhaps, if your art became your life as mine has done, you will be as I am. You could be young and beautiful again and again. You would like that, Neal. Peter can not give you that."

It was true.

Peter was just a mortal man. Smarter than most. Tougher than most. Not even the most handsome man he had ever had. Until his eyes lit. Until he smiled.

Neal lived in Peter's smiles.

The gun lowered. He was not capable of it. Neal glanced at Peter and he suddenly knew that Peter would not have wanted him to be the man who could shoot da Vinci, not even to gain his love.

"I can't stop you," Neal said.

"But won't come with me?" da Vinci asked.

A genius, a miracle, perhaps a bit of a monster in his way. But for the moment, lonely.

"No," Neal said, putting the gun back in Peter's holster. He sat on the bed, feet for once firmly planted on the ground, artist's hands dangling, a speck of oil paint he had missed besmirching his manicure.

"I belong here," Neal said.

"With him?"

"Yeah," Neal said with certainty. "As long as he wants me and that might not be as long as your forever, but it's long enough for me."

"I was mistaken. You are a rich man," da Vinci said. "Goodbye, beautiful Neal. Please take what I will leave you in my studio and share it with your Peter."

The room seemed to close in when da Vinci left. The room did not become a cell though. Peter was still there. Extraordinary enough for Neal. A universe of love for him.

OooOooO

da Vinci was gone. Vanished for now. Neal was glad.

A glass of wine dangled from his hands as he sprawled between Peter's legs in front of the fire.

Alex lay with his head in Mulder's lap, his lover tracing his face as if he was the artist, painting his Pygmalion.

"But you were wrong, Mulder," Neal said.

Faint glower from Alex. No man could speak ill of his beloved

"How was I wrong? It was da Vinci. You know that. Even Peter knows that."

"Yes, it was da Vinci," Neal said, contemplating the portrait of himself. Seeing that da Vinci had captured not only the surface but the soul. Seeing that he no longer needed to fear that beneath the layers of the pearl was nothing . He was worthy of love, even Peter's love.

"He's da Vinci, but he is no alien. He's human. All human. The measure of us. What we could all be and that is the miracle of him. Maybe that's why he can not die, to remind us and challenge us to be human because we are enough. We are the living masterpieces of creation."

And silence fell over them.

Nothing more to be said.

The end.


End file.
